


Sideshow

by Kestrel_sama



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 1900's setting, Circus setting, M/M, Thirsty hanzo, Werewolf Jesse, big beef mccree, mild implications of abuse, smoochin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21655156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel_sama/pseuds/Kestrel_sama
Summary: Hanzo manages to steal a night for himself at an American circus. What he finds there is no ordinary freak show.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 11
Kudos: 233





	Sideshow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SFW portion of the Rising Moon Fanzine, with artwork by the stellar @Haedraulics on Twitter [Artwork here!](https://twitter.com/HAEDRAULICS/status/1202069481910132742)

Sideshow  
By: Kestrel-sama

_New York City, New York 1918_

“Right through here, ladies and gentlemen, you’ll see the strangest beings known to man, alive and in the flesh! Mister Barnum’s FeeJee Mermaid cadaver can’t compare to the living wonders hidden within these very walls!” 

Jesse sighed and rolled his head, stretching out his neck. His fingertips itched horrendously as his claws pushed through the strange amalgam of human flesh and leathery paws where his hands used to be. He didn’t need his enhanced hearing to listen to Ringmaster Zelinski’s pitch at the front of the long tent where Jesse and the other “freaks” were taking in their last few moments of quiet before another herd of gasping women and astonished men came to gawk at the unfortunates of society. 

“Are you feeling okay Jesse?” Angela asked at his side, the only other shifter here who understood the ache of a partial change. She was also the resident medic for the circus folk, when normal doctors crossed themselves against the devil and hesitated to even touch someone “afflicted”. 

She had the good fortune at least of changing into something beautiful at least. An Angel, Zelinski told people, fallen from the heavens to remind humans of the God that watched over them. White-feathered wings sprouted from her back, tattered and ungainly, but a spritz of oil made them shine as though she were in perfect health. Delicate and golden-haired and beautiful, it was all too easy to believe that she might be an angel. 

Jesse was on the other end of the spectrum of shifters: dark haired and skinned, rough-hewn and hairier than most men had a right to be. His eyes glinted golden in the right light, and halfway through a shift like this he had canine teeth that pricked his lower lip. To the carnival-goers, Jesse was a Wolfman, the unholy spawn of a witch who spread her legs for a wolf and bore a monstrous child. 

Jesse figured that wasn’t too likely, given that his birth parents had been two poor, ordinary humans struggling to make a living homesteading out west, and Jesse’d never really had this problem until puberty came along and fucked everything up pretty royally. Witches and bestiality sold more tickets though, so that was the story Zelinski told.

Angela was still waiting on a response while Jesse assessed himself. Doing a half-shift was painful and ached like he’d strained all his muscles, but it was a sight better than catching a whip across his back for not shifting. Nothing felt off beyond the discomfort, though, so he offered her a curt nod in response. 

“Best get to yer post afore Zelinski brings the first lot through.” 

Angela nodded, hesitating a moment before brushing the back of her hand against his shoulder. One of the girls had helped lacquer her nails a shimmering gold color and they caught the dim light in the tent. “I’ll see you tonight after the show,” she murmured, worry evident in her pretty blue eyes. 

She didn’t have to worry over Jesse, but she did anyways, and in a way it was kinda like having family, Jesse mused. Lots of circus folk said they was family, but that was mostly the performers-- acrobats and trick riders and magicians. There wasn’t any room in that family for the freaks, apparently. 

Didn’t much matter in the end. Jesse had Angie, and Bill, one of the sharpshooters he considered a friend, and that was good enough. 

“Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Hall of Freaks!” 

Jesse sighed before putting on his best fang-displaying snarl. 

Showtime.  
***

“I dare say, Shimada, have you ever been to an American circus? There’s a ripping good one in town if you’d care to join me and the family.” 

Sojiro grunted, handing a sheaf of trade documents off to Hanzo for review. “I have little time for American amusements, Mister Burgess,” Sojiro said curtly, brows furrowed behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Hanzo knew exactly how little patience and time Sojiro had for anything outside of business, including his own sons. 

Maybe it was childish, but Hanzo had heard chatter about the circus that had just arrived in Manhattan, and he was desperately curious to see how different the acrobats and entertainers here were compared to back home. He knew better than to say as much however. 

_“Father,”_ Hanzo said lowly at his father’s side in Japanese. _“Perhaps you could secure us a better deal if we attend this ‘circus’ as friends of Mister Burgess, and you could discuss other trade options after a few drinks? I have heard Americans are more easily persuaded after sharing drinks and entertainment.”_

Sojiro hummed thoughtfully, nodding after a moment. “Ah… my eldest son reminds me that I should take full advantage of this trip and take in the sights before the long journey back to Japan. We will accept your generous offer and attend this ‘circus’ with you and your family.” 

To Hanzo’s credit, none of his quiet triumph made its way onto his face as he bowed respectfully, documents held carefully as he made his way back to his room at the Plaza Hotel. 

***

In the crowd of circus-goers, Hanzo’s head was spinning. Colored lights, flares of fire, the scent of deep-fried food and the happy chatter of attendees-- it was enough to make him dizzy. Showing weakness wasn’t permitted however, so rather than have his father’s gaze fall to him in disapproval, Hanzo was able to slip inside the nearest tent, gaining a reprieve from all the chaos. 

Never mind that he’d been the one who wanted to go in the first place. 

As his eyes adjusted to the dim inside the tent, Hanzo realized that he didn’t exactly pick an _unoccupied_ tent in which to take his brief respite. 

A half-naked man stood in the flickering lamplight while a blonde woman pressed a cloth to a long cut along the man’s bicep. They both looked over at the intrusion, and for a brief moment Hanzo was speechless. 

It wasn’t the nudity that struck him, he’d been to enough onsen that seeing a man in the nude was nothing new, but rather the… well… _everything else_ about him. He was handsome, in a very square-jawed American sort of way, with stubble leading up to a thick beard, and his eyes gleamed golden in the lamplight, forehead marked with frown lines and the corners of his eyes with smile lines. Hanzo’s gaze dropped down the man’s body like syrup where he was met with a broad muscular chest covered in hair… gods, _why was he so thick and hairy?_ It made Hanzo’s mouth dry and then water as he gasped for some excuse for his presence. There was another, thinner trail of hair teasing its way from his navel down past the waistband of his jeans. 

The blonde woman spoke up first, getting to her feet gracefully as she approached him. “I’m sorry, sir, this tent is for medical care… are you well?” Her voice was musical and her accent unfamiliar. Hanzo still couldn’t gather himself, thanks to the dreadfully handsome man who had begun to pull on a button-up flannel, hiding all that delicious perfection. “He’s lookin’ a little parched there, Ang. Probably just a little dehydrated and confused.” The man said, his accent strange when all Hanzo had heard was that of the New Yorker’s. It suited him, as did the easy tilt of his lips into a friendly smile. 

“You ok pardner? We’ll getcha some water and you’ll be right as rain.” 

Hanzo nodded jerkily, finally finding his voice. “I… yes… I was just… dehydrated.” He stammered. The man gave him a sweet smile, slow and sticky as he moved closer. Hanzo swallowed thickly, heart hammering in his chest as his imagination immediately assumed the man would just grab him with those big hands of his and ravish him there on the floor of the tent. 

Instead, their shoulders brushed as the man passed him, heading for the tent flap. “I’ll get outta yer hair then, Angie’ll fix you right up. Enjoy the rest of the circus, sweetheart.” And then he _winked._ Honest to God _winked_ at Hanzo Shimada, heir to the Shimada-gumi, assassin by trade, and one of the best bowmen in Japan. 

And Hanzo found that he didn’t mind in the slightest. 

He startled when a tin cup was pressed into his hands by the blonde, and when he looked back, the man was gone. “Be careful not to drink too quickly or it could shock your system,” the woman advised, ushering Hanzo towards one of the low stools in the tent. 

***

Wandering into the “freak” tent hadn’t been on Hanzo’s agenda in the first place, but he found himself caught up in the excitement of the crowd, and the next thing he knew he was wedged in line between a very loud, very inebriated man, and a pair of tittering girls who looked as though they’d also snuck away from their escorts for the evening. 

The carnival barker had an impressively loud voice, proclaiming all the strange mysteries and monsters hidden within the tent walls: angels and demons and monsters from across the lands. Hanzo snorted, shaking his head slightly. These Americans were so cut off from their own spirituality and nature that they assumed anything different was a “monster” or a “demon.” 

Rarely were things so black and white. 

In Japan, even though the old ways were being abandoned, people still prayed to the _kami,_ Hanzo had seen _hitodama_ hovering over corpses in the aftermath of battle, and he’d heard the rattle of _kodama_ in the trees. He had even prayed to Fujin and Raijin at the family shrine when he came of age, and he left with the mark of the dragons on his left arm. 

Gods and demons were all too real, but Hanzo doubted he’d find either inside the shabby walls of a traveling circus tent. Reaching the entrance to the tent, Hanzo paid the entrance fee, already anticipating that he wouldn’t find much of interest among the spirit-blind Americans. 

He was only right for the first few feet. 

He could hear the shocked cries of the people ahead of him, a few curses and moans about monsters, and a carnival worker horrifying the delicate women with shocking tales of bestiality and witchcraft. Intrigue piqued, Hanzo rounded the bend and actually stopped mid-stride at the sight of the man behind bars. 

The first thing Hanzo noticed was fur. Thick brown and russet fur, a bit oily and unkempt. Human-like arms and hands that thickened and claws sprouting from the tips of the fingers, the nail-bed seeping blood. As he squeezed through the crowd, he could see strong shoulders, abnormally hunched, the spine lengthened as the… person? ... was forced to crouch in his cage. 

Once up front, a sense of familiarity nagged at Hanzo’s memory. It was the creature’s face… in spite of the malformation of the jaw, which sprouted forward into a muzzle with long sharp teeth, and the triangle ears atop his head… it all pinged against Hanzo’s consciousness. Then their eyes met, dark brown to whiskey gold, all too human in a not-so-human face, and Hanzo _knew._

Recognition sharpened in the caged man’s eyes, warped face scrunching up and shoulders hunching in defeat as he turned away as best he could. Under the din of amazed chattering, Hanzo could hear a groan, low and rumbling. It spoke of soul-weary agony, of shame, of resignation. It made Hanzo’s heart fracture inside his ribcage.

Hanzo wasn’t horrified. He didn’t flinch away. He knew what this man was, and to see him in a cage for carnival-goers to gawk at and be frightened by? That was the only monstrous thing here. Such a powerful spirit should be sprinting through moonlit woods and howling after a kill, not crouched in a too-small cage while foolish humans made him out to be a freak. 

Just then, a woman in the group behind him fainted, and the carnival attendant had to go and help her up. Hanzo took the moment to slip close to the man’s cage. “If you’re able to get away, meet me behind the main tent at midnight. I know what you are,” he whispered roughly. He saw the man’s ear twitch towards him and knew that he’d been heard, and golden eyes flicked towards him subtly, a spark of wary curiosity flickering across his features. 

Before anyone noticed how close he was, Hanzo slipped back into the crowd, where they were ushered along to the next attraction. He felt the lycanthrope’s eyes on him the entire time. 

***

It had been all too easy to leave his father drinking with their business partner, claiming to need to prepare for tomorrow’s meetings as he slipped away. It took very little effort to sneak his way back onto the circus grounds and make his way to the main tent. 

As he rounded the walls, Hanzo’s heart quickened as he pondered whether or not the lycan would actually meet him. He knew to be wary of the clever _kitsune_ of his homeland, but the werewolves of Europe and the Americas were a different breed altogether. 

The lycan was already standing at their meeting spot when Hanzo got there, He smoked a cigar as he stared up at the sky. He looked decidedly more human this go-around, and Hanzo had to take a moment to appreciate the strong silhouette he made in the waning moonlight. He was tall— much taller than Hanzo himself— and the rugged shape of his beard drew the eye down to the swell of his chest and the angle at which his ribs tapered down into narrow hips, and long, strong legs that Hanzo imagined could very easily pin him to the ground. Or a bed.

It was a credit to how distracted he had become by the lycan that he didn’t even realize that the man hadn’t come alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the barest flutter in the top of a nearby tree and realized that the doctor (the angel?) was nearby, keeping watch over her friend. Honestly, he couldn’t blame her for being protective given the circumstances. 

“Nows jus’ so ya know,” the man drawled around his cigar, voice low and smokey, just as it had been before in the medical tent, “I ain’t inclined to sell myself for a freak fuck, so if that’s what yer into, best be on yer way, pardner.” 

He hadn’t even turned to look at Hanzo, just kept smoking his cigar and staring up into the sky. It really should have annoyed Hanzo to be addressed without being looked at, but as with the wink before, he found that he honestly didn’t mind. 

“I assure you, that was not my intent,” Hanzo said mildly as he leaned against a post and pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket. He flicked it open and took his time selecting a cigarette as he gathered his thoughts. “You know, in my homeland, there are many spirits and beings such as yourself. The _kitsune_ , fox spirits who transform themselves into humans either out of love or curiosity. The _tanuki_ , a sort of raccoon with little mind for anything but mischief. Even the _tengu_ , bird-folk similar to your friend up in the tree, are fierce warriors who take on the visage of monks.” 

Hanzo placed a cigarette between his lips and clicked the case shut, putting it away and replacing it in his hand with a matchbook, which he used to quickly light the cigarette, a flare of fire lighting his features for just an instant. It wasn’t a habit he indulged in often, but it helped him think, and he rather figured he needed the assistance at the moment. 

“Sounds like yer from a pretty fantastical place there, friend,” the lycan replied as he turned toward Hanzo. Hanzo’s eyes had long since adjusted to the low light, so it was easy to see the guarded intrigue on the man’s features. He hid his satisfaction behind the drag of smoke into his lungs, holding it for a moment before sending it back out his nostrils like a dragon. 

“Not particularly. We simply have not forgotten the old ways as the rest of the world has.” A fleeting sense of nostalgia washed through him at the thought of all the lost lore. “Your people had similar legends. The werewolf, a man turned into a beast by the bite of one infected with the curse.” 

The man stiffened, his eyebrows pinching together. “An’ what if it just all of a sudden happened? What about the ones who weren’t bit?” 

“A lycanthrope,” Hanzo replied smoothly. “Or a skinwalker, or a medicine man. It depends on the region, and the ways the power was obtained.” 

He sensed the movement before he really saw it, but suddenly the man was in his face, one thick arm planted just above the post Hanzo was leaning against.

“How d’you know all this?” The question was a growl, a rumble so deep Hanzo could _feel_ it, and didn’t bother to hide the way it made him shiver. 

He looked up unphased when their eyes locked together once more. “I make it my business to know hidden things.”

The man huffed out a laugh that is part sneer and all teeth. It was attractive in ways it really shouldn’t have been. 

“Hanzo Shimada.” Hanzo introduced himself in the American way, family name last, and held a hand up in the scant space between them. The man hesitated for a breath, and the smile became less dangerous.

“Jesse McCree.” He greeted as he took Hanzo’s offered hand and squeezed. 

***

They met up again the next night. This time Hanzo arrived first, and Jesse came without an escort. They avoided the firelight of the campfires scattered around, choosing instead the canopy of stars. Hanzo produced a bottle of fine whiskey from inside his robes and two small cups, and they shared the drink, staring at the sky as they talked.

“Never really figured myself for anything more than what I am,” Jesse drawled, taking a sip of whiskey. “Figured puberty was just hittin’ me harder than the other kids, but when the ears and claws started poppin’ out, I realized that weren’t the whole story.”

Hanzo hummed his understanding. “For those born with the wolf in their blood, I understand that the bodily changes are not dissimilar to coming of age and often go hand in hand. I am certain you were not the only one in the world to suffer such an uncomfortable realization when the body is already changing so drastically to begin with.” 

Jesse chuffed a sarcastic sound. “Yeah, well, I sure _felt_ like the only one. Even my own parents didn’t know what to do with me.” 

After that, silence fell between them, awkward and strung a little tight. Hanzo took a breath, steeling himself for the question he couldn’t repress any longer. “Is that...how you came to be here?” 

Jesse’s eyes glinted a little as his gaze fell from the stars to land on Hanzo. “How d’you mean?” 

Hanzo had been laid bare under far sterner gazes before, but it was Jesse’s that made him want to shift uncomfortably where he sat. “I mean… did your parents sell you to the circus when they realized what you were?” 

Jesse looked surprised for a moment before he chuckled, head ducking as he looked at the glass in his hands. “Naw, nothin’ like that. They tried to help me keep it quiet, but when cattle started comin’ up mauled and folk started gettin real twitchy I figured it was safer for them if I ran off on my own.” He took a drink, this one a little deeper than the ones previous. “Sides, the wolf was itchin to run, so we ran and wound up shacking up with a gang out west. They didn’t care much if I disappeared once a month— they just wanted me to kick ass and take names. Stayed with them till things got a little too hot and realized the safest place was out in the open. Zelinski’s a hardass, but he keeps me an’ Miss Angela safe.” 

Hanzo couldn’t help but think that Jesse looked a little bitter when he spoke, and his suspicions were confirmed when he tossed back the rest of the whiskey a little too vigorously. Hanzo refilled the glass by another finger anyway. 

“The kind of hardass who strikes his employees with a cane when they don’t perform?” Hanzo asked lightly, daring to graze a finger along the whitened strip of skin along Jesse’s arm that had been an open wound mere days prior. “The kind who has to oil a _perchten’s_ wings to get them to shine when a suitable diet and time out under the full moon would do the same?” 

Jesse went quiet, staring into the middle distance, glass dangling from his fingers. “Yeah, well...ain’t nothin’ perfect in the world. Me’n Angie’ll be fine, don’t you worry, sugarplum.” In spite of the words meant to reassure, Jesse’s voice was flat. Resigned. It made Hanzo’s insides itch to see something so wild beaten down, his nature throttled to perform on command and never truly let loose. 

Hanzo leaned into Jesse, looking upward at the sky once more. “When was the last time you were bared beneath the moon’s gaze?” 

Jesse’s head fell to Hanzo’s shoulder, the spice and smoke scent of his hair temptingly close. “A long time, sugar. A real long time.” 

***

“Was startin’ to think you weren’t gonna come anymore,” Jesse said, grinning easily as Hanzo met him at their usual spot for the last time.

Between his father’s business deals, organizing contracts, and sundry duties as the heir to his father’s business, Hanzo hadn’t been able to sneak away, only able to bribe one of the paper boys to deliver a note a few days prior that it would be a bit before they could meet up again.

“Have you been coming here every night?” Hanzo asked, confused by the flutter it brought to his guts. Jesse shrugged, grinning in a way that could be called sheepish. “S’pose I was. Been hopin’ you’d make it back out before you set sail. It’s tomorrow, right?” 

Hanzo nodded, frowning. “I wish we’d had more time, but…” He sighed, looking away for a moment before his gaze was drawn, magnetically back to Jesse’s moonlit frame. “I had a thought...if you’d indulge me?” He swallowed thickly and wished, somewhat futilely, that Jesse’s night-vision wasn’t as good as it was. Maybe he wouldn’t have seen the red creeping up Hanzo’s neck if it weren’t. 

Jesse grinned at him in that slow, sticky sort of way that made Hanzo weak at the knees. “Ask away, pumpkin,” he purred. It was unfairly attractive, how he could pitch his voice low and rumbling, easy as breathing. Hanzo had to steel himself against it in order to make his case. 

“I would like to...I think you should take on the change, remember what it feels like to have the moonlight kiss your fur. I want to run with you. Just for tonight.” Had that come out as disjointed and awkward as it felt? Hanzo wasn’t sure, and honestly couldn’t think about it, not when Jesse’s face had gone carefully blank. 

“I uh...I guess I ain’t opposed to the idea, so long as we stay out of sight, but I got two questions, and I need you to answer real serious, okay?” 

Hanzo nodded. “Ask,” he said imperiously, sensing the sober tone Jesse had taken. Jesse shuffled his feet, one hand scratching at the collar of his shirt. “I gotta know...is this a monster-fuckin’ thing? Cuz if it is, I ain’t-”

Hanzo interrupted the sentence with a kiss, pushing his lips somewhat urgently against Jesse’s. He was stiff and startled for a moment, an agonizingly long moment that spanned only a second, but made Hanzo start to second-guess his read of the situation. Just as he was about to pull away, Jesse pushed in, one large hand settling tenderly on the small of Hanzo’s back, holding him in place as he began to participate in the kiss. 

Breaking the kiss by an inch, Hanzo breathed, trying to calm his thundering heart. “I have wanted to bed you since before I knew what you were,” he said a touch breathlessly, fingers reaching up to trace the shape of Jesse’s face. Jesse groaned a wanton noise, gently resting his forehead against Hanzo’s. 

“God, y’had to drop that on me the night before you leave?” He complained. Hanzo chuckled, urging Jesse’s chin up to steal another kiss, this one just as sweet and impassioned as the first. 

“And the second?” he asked, taking some private glee in the way Jesse looked befuddled at the words. 

“The second what?” he murmured, leaning in to try and steal another kiss. 

Hanzo dipped out of his way, grinning in a way his brother had once described as “feral.” 

“The second question,” Hanzo laughed. “The one you need answered before you’ll let me join you under the moon.” 

Jesse blinked once, twice, then grinned at Hanzo. “Oh, that question! Yeah, so how you plan on keepin’ up?” Then it was Hanzo’s turn to try and steal a kiss, thwarted by Jesse dodging out of the way. 

“You’ll just have to see, won’t you?” 

The air was charged between them, electric like the start of a lightning storm, with give and take akin to the pull of waves. It was euphoric and raw — unlike anything to be found in the city. No, this was elemental attraction in its basest form. 

“I s’pose I will,” Jesse murmured, stripping off his shirt and dropping it to the ground. “Y’don’t have to look away,” Jesse teased when Hanzo turned his gaze elsewhere. 

“I’m afraid if I don’t, we will never get to running beneath the moon,” Hanzo replied. Behind him, Jesse chuckled and more fabric hit the ground, setting Hanzo’s mind running wild with indecent thoughts. 

“Can’t say I’d mind that either,” Jesse teased. Hanzo flushed, arms crossing over his chest. “Yes, well you— ” 

He was interrupted by a groan, turning in time to see Jesse hunched over, body convulsing as the wolf reshaped his bones and organs. It was fast, almost as fast as a full-moon shift, speaking to how long the wolf had been caged inside Jesse’s human form. 

“Oh,” Hanzo breathed, mouth dropping open as the last bones cracked into places. Jesse was _large_ , and the thick pelt of fur that covered his body was a beautiful russet-brown. From a distance he might be mistaken as a regular wolf, but at this range it was easy to see that his limbs were a bit too long, his muzzle just a bit too short, and then there were his _eyes_. Golden and green but oh-so-human in their intelligence. 

Hanzo took a step forward, one palm held out and up. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed reverently. Jesse rumbled a soft, pleased noise, nuzzling into Hanzo’s hand and letting him dig his fingers into thick fur, scratching gently behind his ears. 

“It is a sin to keep you caged,” Hanzo murmured, both hands cupping Jesse’s huge head, fingers stroking adoringly through his fur. Jesse whuffed, nosing at Hanzo’s belly and breathing him in. “Mmm, can you smell my spirits?” he whispered, allowing the faintest blue glow to rise from his left arm. 

Jesse looked at him, looked at his arm, then tugged gently at the sleeve of his haori with his teeth. Hanzo chuckled, slipping his arm out of the garment to show Jesse. The glowing blue dragons lifted away from his skin a few inches to regard Jesse before settling back in. Jesse’s tail wagged, and Hanzo felt a sense of rightness suffuse his very being. 

“Let’s go,” Hanzo urged. Jesse was quick to whirl around and bound off into the nearby wooded area, Hanzo close on his heels, the dragons speeding his steps.

***

A few hours before dawn, they lay in dew-dampened grass, panting and staring up at the sky, both outwardly human but neither truly so. 

“That was real nice, darlin,” Jesse said, his fingers entwined with Hanzo’s. They’d rested just long enough for the sweat to begin to cool on their bodies, Jesse having had enough forethought to put on pants before collapsing in a sweaty heap on the ground. 

“It was,” Hanzo agreed, his mind and heart full. 

“You know, you could have this,” he said after a moment. “The freedom to run whenever the moon calls you. A life lived all your own. The West is vast enough, and there are plenty of tracts of land one could purchase for a minimal sum to start a life on.” 

Jesse rolled towards him, one arm coming up to prop his head up as he gazed down at Hanzo. “Yeah...that’d be mighty nice. Be even nicer havin’ someone to come home to as well.” 

Blotches of red crept into Hanzo’s cheeks as he stammered out a response. “Yes, well...I could not go right away, you know. Family duties and all that, but...perhaps in a few years there will be cousins far better suited to serving the main house’s business than I.” 

It was the best he could do, and Jesse seemed to understand that, at least. 

“Alright, sug’. Me and Miss Angela will start saving up our spendin’ money. Find us a nice little place out in New Mexico, see if there’s others like us who need a safe place to work and live. You’ll come look us up, won’t ya?”

Hanzo nodded, smiling as he leaned in to steal one final kiss before dawn started creeping up on the horizon. “It would be my pleasure, Mister McCree.” 

***

_Taos, New Mexico 1922_

“Ay, Mister McCree! There’s someone to see you!” 

Jesse wiped his brow, looking up from the iron pin he was hammering back into shape. “What kinda someone?” he grunted, using metal forceps to turn the pin a quarter turn, smacking the red-hot iron, cooled flecks falling off as the metal was stubbornly reshaped. 

“I dunno. Oriental. Looks rich. Says he knew you from a few years back?” 

Jesse dropped the hammer with a clatter and dunked the pin into the quenching bucket, rushing to get his hands out of the heavy leather gloves. “Why didn’ you say so sooner? Run up to the house and have the girls put together a spread!” 

Olivia grinned at his sudden fluster, and Jesse knew he’d hear about it later. Fortunately the girl did as she was told while Jesse handed control of the forge over to one of the ranch hands and whistled for Peacekeeper. The mare trotted up and barely lost pace as Jesse swung onto her saddle pad and urged her into a canter. 

He whooped when he saw Hanzo’s frame waiting at the front of the house, two valises sitting on the porch at his side, and a hired car already making its way back down the road towards the nearest train station. 

He looked tired, but the smile on his face more than made up for it as Jesse slid off the still-moving mare, barely stopping to get his bearings before whirling Hanzo into a hug that lifted the man’s feet up off the ground. 

“You came,” Jesse breathed when he finally set Hanzo down, grimy hands reaching up to cup Hanzo’s cheeks and hesitating an inch away.

Hanzo didn’t allow him the distance, his own hands coming up to cover Jesse’s and pulling them in the rest of the way. “I made a promise, did I not?” he asked with no little amusement. 

“Are you staying?” Jesse blurted out, embarrassed by his own forthrightness. 

Hanzo laughed and nudged his luggage with a toe. “I have nowhere else to go, so I certainly hope so.” 

A joyful ache built in Jesse’s chest, and it didn’t matter if Olivia and the other girls were watching, he leaned in and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Hanzo’s lips. 

“Welcome home, darlin,” he breathed. 

Hanzo leaned into him, hands lifting and fingers digging into Jesse’s tumble of messy brown hair. “I’m home, my wolf.” 

Finally, their pack was complete.


End file.
